


Self Indulgence

by WrynnsBlade



Category: Xī yóu jì | Journey to the West - Wú Cheng'en
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-04-20 11:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14260344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrynnsBlade/pseuds/WrynnsBlade
Summary: Everything sweet starts out slow.





	1. Chapter 1

         In the rare moments that Sanzang was left alone with his eldest disciple, he finds that the monkey was always terribly eager to show off his skills to onlookers. And though this usually meant that the male would be displaying his obscene strength or magical prowess, Sanzang couldn’t help but enjoy the displays. He wonders if the male did so to prove himself strongest over humans, or if it was an attempt to impress his master. _Look at how strong I am_ , he’d boast, _no one can lift as much as I can, Master!_ Or it was: _Look at this trick,_ he’d snort haughtily, _they always fall for the same thing!_

         Perhaps it was also a way to prove that he was useful to the monk, even after all this time. Though WuKong was never sent away for his abilities—only how he abused them. After a particular stunt that made crowds cheer for the King in all of his glory, Sanzang could only sigh with amusement. He did so love to be the center of attention, his first disciple. Briefly, he considers the reasoning behind in, and believes it purely to be how his disciple functions best. He’d claimed to be the leader of a monkey troop, and he’d gone to war against Heaven so many times that Sanzang could nearly recite his disciple’s history himself.

As the disciple made his way back to his master’s side, almost nothing could wipe away the smug grin that curled his lips. “ _Master_ ,” he begins. “Did you see? They _all_ loved it!” He’d made quite a bit in their alms bowl, and if he’d counted correctly, Sanzang believed it would be just enough to tide them over until they could reach another pass point. At least, that’s if Sandy had anything to say about it. The fish demon was terribly shrewd as their money holder. He made for an excellent accountant, and privately the monk was pleased that the fish demon would take on so much responsibility as the youngest brother.

         “Yes, they did,” Sanzang says indulgently. “But it’s rather hard _not_ to appreciate your hard work.” The praise had been hard earned, admittedly. And though it was earned, though his master wasn’t a cruel man nor was he one to withhold such a thing, the monkey can’t help but beam with pride. And it was at that moment that Sanzang realized something off about his disciple. Something truly, wonderfully, particularly strange that the disciple did when he was so built up.

         The forked ears that sit on either side of his head, the very ears that pointed straight to the Heavens themselves, were _twitching_. Entranced, he watches it for a few moments. When they stop, he realizes that his rather short disciple was peering at him. Golden eyes, ones that peer through illusions and crinkled in a clever way when he sees the truth, narrow just the same as if he’d caught his master in a lie. “WuKong,” he murmurs. “We should return.”

         And with that, it’s not difficult to find their way back to the temple they’d sought shelter from for the next couple of days. Idiot was making a mess of himself and the table, so sloppily he ate. Sandy, true to form, was arranging their belongings so it’d be easier to carry for the next section of their journey. And WuKong, once he was finally rejoined with his brothers, plops himself down on a cushion near the table and plucks a single fruit from the selection in front of them. A persimmon, light and sweet, quickly coated his tongue.

         It was a quiet moment for the group, one that Sanzang was pleased to see. And he briefly wished that the journey would never end, knowing full well that they would be apart should his mission reach completion.

         It doesn’t take long for Idiot to stand up and saunter his way out of the room, and once Sandy finishes tidying up their belongings, he takes the alms bowl into another room. It was to count out and factor into their already tiny budget, but it was the most effective way to do so. Seeing that they were alone, he expects that WuKong would jump at the chance to speak to him about something or another. And he was proven correct as the disciple finishes his fruit and sidles his way to his master’s side.

         Staring the monk in the face, the King holds perfectly still. That, in and of itself, was an impressive feat. Until he could see that the ears were twitching, wriggling freely. “How do you _do_ that,” he asks incredulously. A smug grin curls the monkey’s lips. Sanzang could see a quick gleam of fang before it’s hidden away behind a careful movement. He noticed that the monkey did that more and more often—when he smiles at the monk he hides his teeth. Curiously, he tilts his head. “And you do not smile like you used to.”

         That seemed to sting the monkey who thought he’d been so careful with his habits. Unfortunately, he was a male who wore his heart on his sleeve, and believed that honesty was usually the best policy. “You react better,” he states. “When I hide my teeth.” Admittedly, the motion of showing teeth for monkeys was one of aggression. But Sanzang never had reacted too well when he saw the gleaming fangs of his disciple.

         Frowning, his master seems to consider his words very carefully. A hand reaches out, and touches his shoulder. A sign of connection, an intimate motion for humans, the gesture isn’t lost on WuKong. “When you usually showed your teeth,” he chides. “You were always about to attack something. Or someone. But you’ve learned since then. And you’re not nearly as _eager_ as you once were for a fight.” It was true that the monkey had grown up some during their journey. And he’d even understood why Sanzang would fear such a show. He was right in such assumptions.

         Hand rising up, he clasps it with his master’s. “Master,” he begins. There’s a look that’s oddly serious on the monkey’s face. And Sanzang found himself holding his breath, waiting to hear that his student had indeed learned the lessons he’d taught so well. “If you think for a single moment that I am not, and was not, ever eager for a fight then you are wrong. I’m _always_ ready for a fight.” A grin, filled with monkey mischief and humor nearly splits his disciples face in half it’s so wide.

         The monk finds that he can only sigh. He wouldn’t expect anything less of the Monkey King if he were being truthful. “At least you don’t _show_ it so often in front of me.” It was a start.

The monkey begins cackling, tipping over with his hysterics. Sanzang watches, his lips pursed as he lets the monkey have his fill of laughter before his fingers finally release their hold on the eldest pilgrim’s shoulder. In a daring motion, he lets his fingers drift under the monkey’s chin, a tickling motion there in hopes to distract WuKong.

         The reaction he receives is not the one expected. And he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but then again, WuKong always had a way of reacting oddly.

         The laughter stops abruptly, and he makes a sound that Sanzang had never heard the monkey make before. He _squeaks_ , startled by the sudden touch before rolling himself up to be eye level with his master. WuKong’s eyes were wide, _curious_ as he stares the monk down, as if he wasn’t sure of his own reaction. And, with utmost care, Sanzang brings himself to repeat the motion. WuKong doesn’t react at first, the corners of his eyes twitching before Sanzang notices that his first disciple _was_ reacting. WuKong’s fingers were twitching, almost kneading the fabric of his pants, and his ears were began twitching in the telltale sign of being _pleased_.

         The sound that starts is what startles the monk most. A low cooing sound, entirely more monkey than it was human, comes from WuKong. And the monk isn’t sure what to do with this information, finding it both adorable and entirely engaging at the same time. That is, until the monkey’s hands come up, wrapping around Sanzang’s hand and yanking it from his chin. When he opens his eyes, the pupil is so _fat_ it practically consumes the gold he knows is there.

         A chittering sound follows after, monkey chatter that the monk knows absolutely nothing about. He didn’t stop until Sanzang held up his other hand and begins the process again. The monkey coos and chitters until the monk finally stops and pulls both of his hands away. It takes the reddish haired monkey a moment to process this.

         When he does, he frowns at the monk. The bald man had learned a _weakness_. That simply won’t do. He opens his mouth to speak, but the monk beats him to it. “In 500 years,” he begins. He always speaks in a calm, knowing sort of way. WuKong likes it. “You haven’t had much, if any, friendly touch. I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you.”

         Tilting his head, the monkey considers the words carefully. Then he snorts dismissively, shaking his head. “As long as it’s you,” he murmurs. “I don’t mind a bit of self-indulgence.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late ;;v;; Work has been terribly hectic lately! So thank you so very much for your patience!

         A silent agreement was shared between the master and eldest disciple. The small affections between the two—the chin scratches, the light touches of their hands—would be kept out of sight of the younger disciples. It wasn’t out of shame (mainly because his eldest disciple was a terrible exhibitionist, and didn’t even understand the word _shame_ to begin with), nor was it because the two had much to hide, but due to how Idiot would use such information. The damned Pig would abuse it, leaving them in situations far worse than what they could’ve been. Thankfully, he’s as oblivious as ever. But it leaves the monk aching in their travels through the wilderness where there was no privacy, to at least let the King know that the pause of their intimate moments was purely out of necessity.

         Towns were rare to come by, and food and water were even rarer. It took the monkey longer and longer to fetch what they needed to simply survive. His efforts were always appreciated, and frequently the group voiced that without him they’d be long since dead. But even still, begging for food and gathering water was becoming more and more taxing on the King. Some days, he could only bring enough for Sanzang. Others, he might only come back with water.

         As if their struggles weren’t enough, cold began settling in early with no snow to at least boil for water. The nights were becoming harsh, and when they couldn’t find a place to hide from the brutal winds, they were steadily becoming more desperate. Sanzang found himself questioning if it could possibly be a demon to cause such conditions. It took WuKong summoning a local Earth Guide to convince the group that the harsh weather was common at such a time of the year. On this particular night, even with a decent cave to hide from the howling chill outside and a small fire to light the area, it was near impossible to keep warm.

         Blankets and furs had been sufficient enough to tide them over until now. The blankets, were thin, patched together and scratchy. The furs were somewhat dirty, and added every bit of warmth the blankets had been missing. It wasn’t until Pilgrim Sun suggested combining the two together for easier carrying and distribution that he felt assured enough the group would survive.

         Wailing and crying, the wind yanks at everything it can grasp with icy fingers. Branches snap, birds fall silent, and even animals huddle together in fear of the wind’s fury. The chill is what brought fear to the group most, as their little fire didn’t seem to do much else other than bring light, and their furs could only protect them a little from the chill that snaps at the air. WuKong was especially worried over his master as he knew that in such conditions most humans who slept did not wake in the morning. This is not acceptable, and he quickly huddles with his brother to figure out a solution.

         “Usually,” Pigsy states thoughtfully. What a rare occurrence, WuKong things, that the pig can think of something other than woman or food. “Humans huddle together for warmth. Sandy, White Dragon Horse and I can huddle together—Sandy will not keep warm easily, and White Dragon Horse needs more furs than what he has, so I must huddle with them. We will be fine. But, Big Brother, your furs and your natural fur will be much warmer than anything we could offer.”

         Nodding slowly, the monkey sighs. “So, it’ll fall to me to keep Master warm.” Golden eyes are piercing as they stare the pig down, daring him to say something. He wonders if the pig suspected something already, though his ignorance kept him from noticing much else other than himself. Wisely, Idiot keeps his mouth shut. Self-preservation didn’t seem to be a lost cause on the pig who dutifully follows the monk.

         Instead, Sandy speaks up. “Eldest Brother,” he states. “Of the three of us, you’re so handsome that you could be mistaken as a human now! Surely, even as your coarse fur that’s lengthen atop your head into hair so long you need to tie it from your face, your presentation would be much more preferable than either of us. Even with your fur, and your monkey face, it’s a familiar sight to master. He always regards you fondly no matter what face you have. I look like a river monster who’s attempting to be human with two legs but kept my scales. That’s unpleasant for humans. And brother Pigsy…Need I say more? Not even his wife wanted to sleep with him when she saw his true face.” Ignoring the spluttering from the pig, he continues. WuKong has to cover his mouth, giggling hysterically as Pigsy swats at the youngest disciple. “But also, brother Sun, Master likes you more than us.”

         Blinking, startled at the sheer blunt nature that Sandy spoke with, WuKong finds himself at a loss for words. He’s faced his own death, the death of his people at the hands of Heaven, punishments that would cost lifetimes to make up for and he could _always_ find something to say. But in this, being called out so plainly, he couldn’t. He could not lie, he could not refute such a thing, nor could he make an excuse so quickly for the Master who inspired warm feelings in his chest. A small part of him feels ashamed for not being able to speak up.

         “Of course he likes big brother more, little brother,” Pigsy snorts. “They’ve been travelling together the longest. And besides that, WuKong is the better student of us. We were never much for learning, but big _brother_ is able to understand most things by listening to them.” The monkey quietly releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Neither of them suspected a thing, and it brought such a relief to him, knowing that the secret was kept if only for a while longer.

         “The two of you should get set up in the back of the left side of the cave.” There was a minor separation in the rock, allowing for two shallow sections. Perhaps it’d been the start of a demon’s lair, but they didn’t get too far. “Master and I will take the right side. He has less of a chance to be exposed to the winds that way.” And it gave them a little bit of privacy. Maybe he can get a couple of chin scratches for all of his efforts lately.

         The brothers separate to their groups, and WuKong gathers up their Master, quietly pulling him aside and away from the fire that offered no real warmth. The monk is quiet for several moments as WuKong sets up their sleeping arrangement. “You handled that rather well,” he murmurs to the monkey as he begins to settle down with a yawn. Tilting his head, the monkey’s golden eyes peer at his master, his mouth still hanging open with his yawn. Fingers, soft and bold, find the underside of his chin and the familiar feeling of chin scratches makes his fur stand on end.

         “I was afraid that I was going to have to step in,” Sanzang says this, but his eyes glimmer with a gentle amusement. He knew he wouldn’t have had to step in for his eldest disciple. WuKong wriggles, and it was terribly awkward motions that make the monk muffle his laughter before the king settles, his head now resting in his master’s lap. “Could you move a bit less strangely next time? That couldn’t have been comfortable for you.”

         But the king didn’t care, instead reaching for the monk’s hands. It was silent requests, one of which is more _touch_. The monkey seemed to _crave_ for such a thing, demanding it whenever they had the privacy needed. The other is to simply hold the monk’s hand. Rough callous’ brush over worn skin, and the monk can only marvel at how comfortable the king was now. “Only as long as you sort through my fur like you did the last time we got a bath.”

         Sanzang realizes in a moment that WuKong was fully aware of the delicate nature of their relationship. Despite his brothers’ penchant for telling every demon that the eldest disciple didn’t know tenderness, Sanzang realizes that the monkey seems to treasure every moment of softness that could be offered. Stubborn and a little bit demanding, the monkey always seems to constantly _need_ attention in some way or another. It wasn’t due to insecurities, as the king has enough confidence to go and shake the Heavens simply for fun. Perhaps it was because he missed the closeness offered by his family that is long gone.

         “Master,” the king mumbles, his hand coming up and touching Sanzang’s face. The monk isn’t startled by the motion, instead curiously peering down at the bold monkey. “You’re thinking too much. You’ll get colder if you do that.” Blinking owlishly, he wonders if the monkey was jesting. Or if the monkey meant that in an emotional sort of way instead. He was always rather vague when it came down to previous relationships he’d held.

         “I don’t think I will,” is the monk’s reply. “Not so long as you’re allowing me such indulgences.” Truthfully, he wasn’t sure how to label their relationship. It was intimate, but not sexual. It was emotional, but not nearly as tense as it once was. They were each fulfilling needs of the other without asking, without really knowing exactly what needs had been met.

         His eldest disciple smiles. It’s a quiet smile, a simple curl of his lips lacking the usual sarcasm or cruelty. Sanzang’s heart skips a beat, and he privately promises to ensure that the king has reason to smile like that again. Handsome Monkey King indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

         WuKong sighs. His thin, lanky body was strewn across a branch and his golden eyes could do little else other than stare at the ever-blue sky. His master was patching everyone’s clothes, their most recent travels proving too hard for them to survive intact.  Usually he’d be sitting next to the man as he worked, keeping him company as he worked over their clothes with bits of cloth and thread they were given, but the monk shied away from his company. The reason was simple, and he found it silly that the man would do so because of such a thing, but that was just a line that simply divides himself from humans still he thinks.

         The Great Sage Equal of Heaven was about as nude as he could be. His fur was on full display, but it wasn’t thick enough to cover the bits that concerned his master so much. The king had no shame for such things, merely accepting it as it was. He didn’t care who saw him or how they saw him. He was the _Handsome_ Monkey King, the Great Sage Equal of Heaven! He didn’t need to cover himself so modestly! Back in _his_ day, demon kings were crowned for their power! Not for the clothes they wore! Then again, there might not have been clothes for the demons to wear in the _first_ place until they stole them from _humans_ , but **still**!

         “Are you still pouting, Eldest Brother?” WuJing calls out to him, a loincloth being the only modesty he had to himself. WuKong shifts, rolling himself onto his side and peering down at the river spirit with every bit of haughtiness he could summon. “Master isn’t _rejecting_ you, Eldest Brother! He’s merely keeping up appearances!” WuKong sniffs, his nose turning up at the spirit. He knows he was acting every bit of a brat that he shouldn’t be, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. He _liked_ being close to their master. Why should his nudity bother the man so? “Come down to bathe, Pilgrim Sun. When you finish, Master should pay attention to you then.”

         Golden eyes narrow at the spirit before he harrumphs, disappearing from their sight as if he were a mere spirit. There were times that WuKong moved so quickly that their master is left feeling like he was dealing with a restless spirit instead of an immortal being. “Don’t worry too much, Master,” WuJing says this with utmost confidence, his shoulders slumping a bit. “I’ll make sure that WuKong doesn’t return shortly. He _stinks_ to the high Heavens. So much so that I think we’ll get a complaint from Jade Emperor soon if he doesn’t bathe.”

         Sanzang chuckles, shaking his head as WuJing shouts after his eldest brother, “Look out, Brother Sun! This disciple will make sure you’re cleaned head to _tail_ before you return to master!” Truthfully, the brothers could very well act like family when it suited them. They were close knitted, scuffle often and squabble over pitiful things. But they were learning to care. They were learning to work together and with others. Over such a long journey, Sanzang was pleasantly surprised that such a thing could occur.

         Meanwhile, as their master worked tirelessly over their clothes, WuKong was grappling with WuJing. The monkey was chattering, his teeth elongated and his eyes flashing red as they twisted and turned, the water from the hot springs sloshing about as they wrestled. This was something that their master couldn’t see—the rougher side to the brothers, the **violent** edges. But it was all in good fun, bruises included. Such as the one already on WuKong’s shoulder, and the one on WuJing’s thigh.

         Pigsy, having been quiet the time of their wrestling, merely watches with his snout scrunched in sympathy pain. He was a coward through and through, and this is no exception to his cowardice. Watching his brothers wrestle, watching how WuJing is flipped over and over again while the monkey grins and cackles, it’s all rather unnerving. Shaking his head, he sighs. Perhaps it was best that their master didn’t witness such a thing.

         When the brothers finally decide to call it quits, WuKong is significantly cleaner than when they’d began. And he didn’t smell. It was that exact reason why he was allowed to be next to their master as he began working on another batch of clothes—of course, as long as he at _least_ put on some pants.

**Author's Note:**

> These chapters are going to be slightly longer than usual, and as the title states, a fluffy self indulgence as I slowly work out the other fic I'm planning on! The plot is coming along nicely, and should be up in another week! But this fluff was self indulgent not just for the characters, but for my writing purposes!


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